


teach me (but I already know)

by volunteer_of_hufflepuff



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Police Officer Alec Lightwood, Roomates, Slow Burn, Violin Teacher Magnus Bane, mundane AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-04-18 18:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14218884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/volunteer_of_hufflepuff/pseuds/volunteer_of_hufflepuff
Summary: Magnus Bane knows how to play tennis.Alec Lightwood knows how to play the violin.Unfortunately, they forgot to tell each other - so now they're teaching each other.Best friends since college, and both pining secretly since then, will their ridiculous deceptions gain them more than just not so new skills?(A.k.a where Malec have been best friends for ages, live together, and are racing each other for who can be more oblivious.)





	1. how do you hold this?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello - this is my first (serious) multi-chapter, so let's see how this goes!
> 
> At the moments it's looking at about 14 chapters, 30,000 words and I don't know what a posting schedule is.
> 
> This was inspired when I asked [magnusbicon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnusbicon) on tumblr for a Mutual Pining prompt, which I've twisted into what it is today.
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet breakfast, a snapshot of their work lives, criticising tv together and the start of their deceptions.

The sun dappled their kitchen, the lack of curtains apparent; it was beautiful, but its brightness was unwanted by both of them.

"Alexander," Magnus moaned, striding into their kitchen in his worn dressing gown, "turn the sun off."

Alec stifled a snort. "Can't, Magnus."

"It's 7 o'clock. Why didn't we choose easy professions?" Magnus collapsed on a stool and leaned against the kitchen bench - a thin layer of 'marble' - his hair falling into his eyes.

It had been quite the something getting used to morning Magnus, but it had made the most sense to move in together after college.

Their respective jobs were gruelling, but the pay was decent enough together that they could afford a - whilst small - nice, two bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, though the view wasn't that great, just of the grey industrial buildings next door.

Alec looked at Magnus in exasperation before moving behind the counter to pour out their coffee from the stewing pot. "Because we're passionate people, Magnus, and 'I want a vocation, not a soulless job!'"

"Why do you know me so well?" Magnus complained, though the warm glint in his eyes underlining it said otherwise.

"Because we're best friends. Now," Alec said, shoving a coffee towards Magnus with a little more force than necessary, "drink this before you say something you will regret. I'll make some pancakes, we've got enough time."

At this, Magnus' eyes widened and he nearly spat his coffee out. "The last time you tried to cook pancakes, I think my tongue wanted to commit suicide." Fatigue forgotten, Magnus walked into the kitchen quickly, almost tripping over the tiles. "Shoo!"

"Alright," Alec said, grinning, walking out. "Now, pancakes?"

"Fine," Magnus relented, pulling out the frying pan. "I don't have to leave for another hour. You?"

"Because I had that night shift last night," Alec replied, stifling a yawn, "I don't have to come in till ten so I thought I'd do the laundry and maybe read a little."

Magnus froze from where he was getting the milk out of the fridge. "The laundry?"

Alec laughed, shaking his head. "Magnus, it's not going to explode. Don't you trust me?"

"Yes," Magnus replied indignantly, placing the eggs on the counter, "but my clothes are delicate!"

Alec rolled his eyes. "I know how to take care of your clothes, Magnus - because I know how to take care of you."

"Hm," Magnus said, surveying Alec as his face softened. "I guess you do. D'you want chocolate?"

"God, yes," Alec groaned, "tomorrow's Friday, but I think I need something to keep me going."

"You always have me," Magnus said casually, whilst his head was buried in the cupboard, searching for the chocolate sauce. The pantry was a tad cluttered. 

"Yeah," Alec replied, momentarily checking Magnus out, "I do. As do you me."

 _Just not in the way I want to_ , he thought, resigned yet still looking forward to the hour of playful banter stretched out before him.

...

“Are you sure, Madzie?”

Madzie nodded, determination sparkling in her dark brown eyes along with intelligence. "Do it. There are more positions than just D Major."

Magnus slowly peeled off the white lines that he had only put on Madzie's tiny violin last year - a 1/2 violin. "Why don't we start with A Major, then?" he asked, handing her the violin.

The violin was cheap - plastic, and pathetically obvious in contrast to Magnus' treasured, ancient yet highly expensive violin - but it was clear that it was well loved with the way it shone under the fluorescent lighting.

Madzie groaned. "I don't like scales," she muttered. "Are there any songs in A Major that I can play?"

 _No one likes scales_ , Magnus thought idly. Even though the elementary school he worked at was the lowest paid out of all of his four jobs - being an in school violin teacher was certainly a chaotic profession - it was the enthusiasm and innocence of the students who he worked with here that made it his favourite.

Madzie was an extremely prolific violinist for a seven-year-old, especially for one who had only picked up the instrument a year ago. She was probably going to do her Grade 1 Exam early next year at this rate.

Magnus ruffled around with some of the loose music sheets in his briefcase. "How about," he said, pausing at a piece and humming in appreciation, "do you like Harry Potter, Madzie?"

Madzie blinked, a small smile gracing her face. "It's alright, I guess. Don't know much about it. Why?" she asked, frowning.

"There's a piece called  _Leaving Hogwarts_ that's quite nice. You know your friend, Zoe?" Madzie nodded. "I've been talking with Mr Fell, and he thinks that both of you are around the same level in your respective instruments. How would you like to do a duet with her?"

Madzie's face lit up. "That'd be nice," she said, which for her was basically a squeal of excitement, for she used her words sparingly yet effectively, "I've heard Zoe, she's quite good at the piano. Can I at least see the piece first though, Mr Bane, please?"

Magnus smiled and slid the sheet onto the music stand - again, it was flimsy and dull, had almost broken more times than Magnus could count. "Do you want me to play it first, together or do you want to try it alone?"

"Together," Madzie ordered solemnly, picking up her carbon bow.

As Magnus picked up his own bow - dark cherry wood - and though he looked massive in comparison to Madzie, they fit well together as he let the music flow through him.

His vibrato was soft; he was playing pp because this was Madzie's time to shine; and shine she did, as she was sight reading and this was only her second year playing, her mistakes clumsy yet fixed almost instantly, and all in all, Magnus was proud of Madzie.

However, Madzie wasn't just a student - she was also almost like a niece to him, the adopted daughter of his dear friend Catarina, but she still insisted on calling him Mr Bane in school. He had only known her for a few years, after all.

Being a teacher wasn't the most rewarding job, and having multiple jobs, and therefore multiple bosses, to please made it even harder - but at the end of the day, at least Magnus knew he could return to his best friend Alec at their home, who understood, as his job as a police officer wasn't exactly the most forgiving either.

And he was happy with that.

Even if his heart secretly yearned for more.

...

Alec sighed, signing off on another cold case. There seemed to be an endless amount of criminals whose faces would be hidden for eternity; Alec got irrationally pissed off at every one like nothing else.

Well, maybe his own unrequited love for his best friend stung a little bit more.

However, that was irrelevant now. Alec had joined his current precinct fresh out of Police Academy at 21, after also having completed a degree in Criminal Justice as his college major at NYU - which co-incidentally was where he had met Magnus, even though they had not been doing the same courses - with Law as his minor. So, therefore, he had more than completed the three years prerequisite to being promoted to a detective.

Which was his dream. Whilst he enjoyed being a police officer, the thought of being a detective was just so much more enticing. In preparation for his potential promotion, he was about to undertake a part-time Computer Forensics degree - again at NYU. But he would never become a detective if he didn't speak up about his wishes.

Which brought him to this moment. Standing outside Santiago's office with bated breath, having just knocked on the door and now simply waiting for the anticipated 'come in' in cold dread.

There it was.

Raphael Santiago was a man a few years older than Alec who had climbed the ranks to Captain in record-breaking speed. He was prone to wearing sharp suits with bleached ties when not in action and today was no exception.

"Lightwood?" Raphael said, putting down his pen, "what is it that you need?"

Raphael was also an impeccably formal man. Though they had known each other for years, as Raphael's mother Guadapale had adopted Magnus when he was 14 and Raphael 17 - they were brothers - he still referred to Alec as his last name at work.

"Santiago." Alec remained standing. "I would like to express my interest in becoming a detective and to be further considered for any future detective promotions."

Raphael simply nodded, pulling out a notebook and his discarded pen. He jotted something down. "Thank you, Lightwood. I will take this into consideration."

Alec's ambition was no secret to those who even remotely knew him. He closed the door quietly, his shoulders slumping a little as he walked back to his desk to sign off on some more cold cases. Contrary to the stereotypes, Alec found the completion of paperwork satisfying and even somewhat enjoyable, which Magnus liked to tease him about.

"How'd you go?" asked Simon, not bothering to lower his voice, as soon as Alec sat down.

Simon had been a recently turned music from accounting major when Alec had first met him, though his minor had surprisingly been consistently Law. In an interesting turn of events, Simon had ended up following Alec to Police Academy.

He also was proud of the fact that he had introduced Alec and Magnus.

Anyway, Alec had tolerated Simon for years now and grudgingly had admitted that the boy was like another (annoying) younger brother that he felt obligated to take care of. Simon had shed many a tear that day.

"Fine," said Alec, flipping open a case. "Now, be quiet."

...

"You're not cooking, Alexander, unless you can show me a certificate for a cooking class by a certified professional. Whilst you're at that, take Izzy with you."

Alec pouted. You mistook salt for sugar only five times and then you weren't allowed to cook in your own home. "Fine. Take away?"

Magnus sighed and burrowed further into his mountain of blankets on the couch. "Please."

Alec opened up a drawer, got out their collection of menus and started to idly flip through them. "Pizza?"

Magnus scrunched his nose up in a way that Alec tried to not think as adorable. "Not feeling it."

"Hm..." Alec continued to flip, "Burger King?"

Magnus' eyes lit up. "You know me too well. Do they order in, 'cause I'm not going anywhere."

"It's really not that cold, Magnus," Alec muttered, putting the rest of the brochures away and jumping up to sit on the counter.

"The heater isn't working and we're in New York and it's nearly winter, I think I'm entitled to think that it's that cold, Alexander."

"But they do. Order in, that is." Alec got off the counter to pick up his phone, brushing off Magnus' complaint. "The usual?"

"Of course," Magnus scoffed, "I can't betray my onion rings like that."

...

They were lounging on their couches - plural, as they were both couch hogs - eating chips and trying not to get grease onto them.

"You know," Magnus said, his voice slightly muffled by all of the blankets surrounding him, "Madzie is quite talented."

"Is she?" asked Alec, looking over his glass of water. "So no parents have come in and roasted you yet?"

"No," Magnus scoffed, "I am a reputable teacher. Though," he admitted, "Raphael hasn't told me anything shocking about your performance yet."

Alec sighed. "Magnus, please. You know three other people in my precinct and all of them have passed on several messages from you at some point in the last four years; it's quite disconcerting."

Magnus sat up, his brown eyes narrowed. "It's a dangerous profession and you, sir," he said, pulling his other hand out of his blankets to point an accusing finger at Alec, "don't know the meaning of the word break."

"Like you're one to talk. And you're cleaning up your mess," Alec added, watching Magnus' fries teeter frighteningly close to the ground.

"Hmph," said Magnus, pulling out the offenders and eating them. "That reminds me, I don't have anything to drink!"

Magnus started to struggle out of his blankets and Alec rolled his eyes. "I offered."

"I don't want water," Magnus muttered, slumping back into the couch, "I want something proper-"

"I thought we agreed on no alcohol on school nights because someone can't control themselves," Alec said, raising his eyebrow.

"We did," Magnus muttered dejectedly. Then he blinked, an uncannily conniving smile spreading across his face. "Dear Alexander," he almost purred.

"Yes?"

"Could you pretty please get me one glass of champagne and I promise we get to watch whatever you want tonight and I won't be judgemental," Magnus said, pouting.

So Alec relented. He was only a man, after all, and - "Fine. But the cheap stuff and if you spill it you're paying for the dry-cleaning."

...

"You want to watch what?"

"Magnus, just because it's Hallmark, doesn't mean that it is sappy. Or only suitable for saps. Also," Alec added, shuffling around the kitchen - after extensive training, he was permitted to make microwave popcorn, "I thought we agreed on no judgement."

"Fine," Magnus said, sulking. "Why are we watching the latest episode though?"

"Because I want to." Alec slipped in the bag of popcorn and put the microwave on.

Magnus swivelled around and glared at him, though there was more concern than heat in his gaze. "ALEXANDER! Step away from the microwave now, it's bad for you."

"Sure, mum," Alec muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Magnus asked, his voice dangerously low.

"Something true," Alec replied innocently. "Anyway, we're watching the latest episode of  _Murder, She Baked_ because I've seen all of the others. With Izzy," he added at Magnus' oddly crestfallen look, "which I probably should've done this time, but she's swamped with work at the moment, and she practically forced me to go ahead."

The microwave dinged and Alec instantly retrieved it, having neglected to follow through with his best friend's nagging. "Now. Popcorn and let's hope Hannah doesn't get herself killed this time. The cat is adorable, though."

As the credits rolled, Magnus threw Alec a slightly guilty look over the couch. "I've read the books and I'm hoping they don't follow with the love triangle, didn't even end well."

"And I'm the sap here," Alec sniped, pouring the popcorn into a large bowl and wincing at the larger than average amount of kernels as well as blackened pieces. "Now," he said, "budge over."

Magnus looked at him imperiously. "Why?"

"Because it's cold and you're hogging all of the blankets." Alec placed the popcorn onto Magnus' lap and slid onto the couch. "Now, no talking or no popcorn."

This kind of casual physical contact with Magnus was ordinary, comfortable almost.

But it wasn't in the way Alec secretly wanted.

...

"Promise me that you will never run towards the person with the gun, Magnus."

"What," Magnus gasped. "How dare you insinuate - ok, fair warning. But it's him?"

"I called it," said Alec smugly. "Now, shut up."

And so Magnus remained in relative quiet - except for the stifled laughs and a shocked - "ok, then" - before the credits started to roll.

"It was good," Magnus admitted reluctantly. "What time is it?" he asked, stifling a yawn.

Alec didn't even bother looking at the clock. "For bed. You've got the snooty school tomorrow, remember?"

Magnus groaned, pulling the blankets closer towards himself and further away from Alec. "Don't remind me. Fine, I'll go to bed."

As Magnus shuffled off to his room, Alec ran after him. "You can't steal all of the blankets. Give me one before you disappear."

Magnus peeled the outer one - the fluffiest one - off reluctantly. "Fine. I guess something that pretty shouldn't freeze to death."

Alec sighed and grabbed the blanket, ignoring Magnus' casual flirting. "What are you doing after work tomorrow?"

"Not much," Magnus admitted, yawning.

"Me neither. See you tomorrow," Alec said, patting Magnus on the shoulder before padding off to his bedroom.

Living with your best friend was pretty good. It only had some minor drawbacks, such as it was even harder to not spill out your heart and soul accidentally to them.

"G'night, Alexander."

"Goodnight. Don't stay up on your phone," he added sternly. "You need your sleep."

"So do you. I'll call the electrician after work tomorrow." And then Magnus slipped into his room, because another undeniable drawback about living with your best friend was that it was too easy to chat until the next day.

...

"Are you sure?"

Alec shrugged. "I haven't played in years, but it couldn't be that hard."

Magnus narrowed his eyes before taking his violin out of his case, caressing the instrument with extreme care. "Be careful."

"Of course I will be," Alec said reassuringly.

He picked up the violin, tucked it under his left chin and winced. Had it always been this uncomfortable?

"Alexander, darling, you have to put this on first." Magnus handed Alec his shoulder rest - a cushion of sorts between his shoulder and the hard wood of the violin.

"Oh," Alec said, annoyed. "I forgot." And then he picked up the bow and roughly pulled it across one of the middle strings. Or maybe both.

“Alexander,” Magnus laughed, shaking his head and wincing a little, “that was abysmal.”

“Yeah,” Alec said, continuing to glide his bow over the strings in a particularly ugly way, producing an ear-splitting screech, even though his lessons were now flooding back to him, “I’ve never done this before.”

Which was, strictly speaking, true. He hadn’t ever played this badly on purpose before.

“Hm,” Magnus said, tsking at the careless way Alec was holding the violin, his back slouched and palm pressed up against its neck, “d’you want some lessons, darling? Your last ones clearly weren't any good."

“Sure,” Alec replied, itching to stand up straight and take care of the violin properly, “if you’re willing, if it isn’t too much for you,” he added hurriedly.

Magnus paused. “Darling, we’ve been best friends for seven years and we live in the same apartment. I think I can find the time to teach you how to play this beautiful instrument. You’re treating it dreadfully,” Magnus suddenly added, swooping it from under Alec’s chin and hugging it, “it was making me dreadfully anxious.”

Well. This was going to be interesting.

Maybe he should have admitted to Magnus that he had only been rusty and he did, genuinely, know how to adequately play the instrument, but the prospect of Magnus teaching him how to play the violin, in the gentle and caring way he did, was simply too tempting.

"We can have a hit tomorrow, if you want," Alec offered, "of, you know, tennis. Izzy offered."

Magnus raised his eyebrows as he slipped his violin back securely into his case. "Izzy plays?"

"She dragged me and Jace off for a year of lessons when we were 15," Alec said, rubbing the back of his neck. "As well as a season of local competition. It was... interesting. I prefer Archery, but it should be fun. And you said you played a while back..."

"I did," Magnus confirmed, swinging his vibrant violin case up onto his back to put it away, "that should be fun."

…

After about the fifth time Magnus volleyed the ball over the fence, Alec sighed and jogged down to the other side of the court.

“Magnus,” he said, the wind ripping through his hair, “that was horrible. I thought you said you had played before?”

Izzy looked up from where she was sprawled on a bench, flicking through a magazine and gave Magnus a _look_.

“It’s been a while,” Magnus muttered, reaching up to fix his dragon ear cuff.

Why he was wearing that whilst playing tennis, Alec had no clue. Or his multitude of necklaces and rings.

“Well,” Alec said, raising his eyebrow, “perhaps we should start off with what you’re wearing.”

Magnus pouted, continuing to fiddle with his ear cuff.

“It’s inappropriate. The ear cuff can stay, but everything else – shoo!”

Magnus reluctantly, but slowly, took off the offending jewellery.

 _He does look good in them_ , Alec thought idly. “We’re going home.”

Alec ignored Magnus’ protest of ‘but we only just got here!’ and started to run off to collect the poor balls from the bushes Magnus had sent them into.

…

Catarina sighed. "What is it?"

Magnus walked up to his bedroom's window, peering through it to make sure that Alec was still occupied with talking to Isabelle.

"Alexander," he said mournfully, "he offered to teach me how to play tennis and I accepted like the fool I am!"

"But you know how to play tennis," Catarina replied, clearly confused.

"Beside the point," Magnus said, dismissing Catarina's perfectly reasonable remark. He put his phone on speaker, threw it onto his bed and collapsed dramatically next to it. "How am I supposed to survive?"

"Finally tell him how you feel? It has been literal years, Magnus, and we're all sick of your pining."

Magnus gasped as if he had been mortally wounded. "Confess? Are you out of your mind? Catarina, you of all people know that I cannot risk my friendship with Alexander for something as silly as feelings."

Magnus could feel Catarina's eye roll vibrating through the phone. "Magnus, they're not just 'feelings' or a silly crush. You're in love with him, and I'm pretty sure he feels the same way about you."

"Don't get my hopes up," Magnus said sorrowfully, "he doesn't. That is preposterous. Anyway, back to the matter at hand; the tennis lessons. It's going to be torture."

"Magnus," Catarina started patiently.

"I'm going to die a glorious death!" Magnus moaned, burying his head into his pillow.

"Shut up, idiot," she finished. "You're going to be fine."

"I'm also going to be giving Alec violin lessons," Magnus added in a much more relaxed manner. "He apparently already had lessons years ago, but the darling was terrible."

There was a long stretch of silence in which Magnus only knew Catarina hadn't hung up due to the lack of a beep.

"You've got this, Magnus," Catarina said in a softer voice. "You're 25, you're successful in your career, I think you can handle seeing Alec's muscles for a few hours. Ok?"

"Ok," Magnus replied slowly, playing with the fringes of one of his blankets. "Thank you, Catarina. Love you."

"Love you too," she said before hanging up.

Magnus could hear the rhythmical, even thumps of Alec's footsteps approaching and sat up, placing his phone on charge.

The front door creaked open and Magnus padded up to meet Alec.

"Hi," Alec panted, "Izzy wouldn't stop talking." His dark hair was sticking up, uncharacteristically all over the place. "I'll have a shower, then Brooklyn 99?"

Magnus nodded, rubbing his fingers together. "Sounds good."

Magnus shuffled off into the kitchen in his grey slacks and started on the popcorn.

On the stove. Because it tasted better and it was considerably healthier; he could also be trusted with it.

But certainly not with anybody's heart.


	2. why are you laughing?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jace and Alec banter; their first official lessons; and some more pining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :) Thank you all for reading the first chapter - the subscriptions were sweet, so everyone who is going to be reading this chapter in their email with a notification... I feel honoured. The comments and kudos were lovely too xx
> 
> Anyway, this chapter is pretty lighthearted.
> 
> Hope you enjoy ;)
> 
> Note: This is an AU, so Jace is actually a good brother. Haven't decided on the other ships yet, so leave suggestions in the comments!

"Duck," Jace panted as his right hook swung towards Alec's face.

Alec thought it was strange, peculiar even, to warn your opponent when you were trying to win. "Why?"

"Because," Jace grinned mischievously, "don't want to ruin your pretty face for Magnus."

Jace's words were... unsettling, to say the least. "Ok," he said, nodding his head like his brother was crazy, "sure. I totally care about how my best friend who has literally seen me at my worse sees me."

Sarcasm. Some might say that it was the lowest form of wit, but those who said that were the ones stupid enough to not either achieve or appreciate the subtle art.

"Right," Jace said, disbelief threaded throughout his voice, too tight to be unpicked by Alec's constant wall of denial, "if you say so. Now, get ready to be beaten."

Alec patted Jace on the shoulder as if he was two. "Nah. Don't want to smash your pretty face either - hm," he started in mock reflection, "maybe we should continue, after all, a bruise would improve your complexion."

"Shut up," Jace muttered, dropping his hands. His face was one of regret; of someone who had brought knives to a gun fight. "Let's hit the punching bags, then."

"Defeats the purpose. Weights." Alec dropped his hands and unstrapped his gloves. Jace trailed after him, as he dropped them into a box before striding out of the room.

"Great," Jace said, bubbly enough now that Alec wanted to break his promise and continue to fight, "my Instagram followers will love this!"

"Your 200 followers?" Alec asked as they walked over to the weight station. "Sure. They care."

Jace scowled, picking up a weight - he had learned the hard way that his body couldn't go straight to the big, lift off your chest weights, but instead had to warm up like a little kid with bicep curls; unlike Alec, who sat down on the bunch with an indisputable air of smugness.

"I still don't understand," Jace said, idly lifting the 6kg weight as if it weighed nothing, "how you have more followers than me."

Alec coughed.

"Sorry, Mr 10,000 and counting followers. Why does everyone flock to you, anyway?"

"In the words of Izzy," Alec said, still sitting on the bench, "I'm different. No one wants to follow yet another blonde idiotic fitness freak, but a police officer who takes nice pictures is just so much tempting as well as refreshing. What else did she say?" He paused, mockingly counting on his fingers. "My followers follow me for my soul. Yours follow you for your body."

Jace sighed dejectedly. "True." He put down the weight and walked over to stand over Alec as he did his weights - for safety and all that.

And under the burn of his muscles, as he pushed them to the edge, pulling himself back just before their collapse, all of Alec's problems fled his mind.

...

"I haven't woken Magnus when I've gotten up early for nearly a year now," Alec informed Jace as the door swung shut behind them. "He says it's because he's gotten used to my 'ungodly loud thumps', but I think it's because I'm a decent best friend who is quiet and someone was just being paranoid about burglars."

"Congratulations," Jace replied distractedly. "Look, sun."

"Stunning. Did you know Magnus has never seen the sunrise? Ungrateful idiot." Alec got his phone out and took a picture of the blazing sun, its rays spilling out into the blue sky with an unrivalled gradient.

"Isn't he asleep?" Jace asked as they started to walk down the silent street, broken by the occasional bird call as well as the somewhat comforting patter of feet.

"Yes," Alec said, typing away, "but I've told him that he should put his phone on silent a million times if he insists on sleeping next to it. Honestly, sometimes I think it is his best friend."

"Being replace by an inanimate object," Jace said solemnly, "could be worse."

"Yeah," Alec sniped, pocketing his phone, "could be you."

"The betrayal." Jace stopped walking to whip around and glare at him. "We were brothers!"

"Cut it out," said Alec, too tired to deal with Jace's dramatics, "and grow up. I've been waiting for six years, but I've never given up hope."

"Is this about Magnus?" Jace asked innocently, resuming their walk at an intentionally faster pace.

"No," Alec said curtly, continuing to walk, ignoring Jace's suggestive looks.

His phone buzzed, the vibration shocking him through the thin fabric.   

> _Magnus_
> 
> asshole. hasn't even risen yet. lemme sleep.                                                                                                                                                                                                          
> 
> _Alec_
> 
> Would it kill you to get up at dawn?
> 
> yes. get doughnuts on the way home and i may forgive you.
> 
> Fine. See you.
> 
> better. make sure jace doesn't do something stupid.

Jace stopped Alec suddenly, his hand warm against Alec's frigid shoulder. "Hey, we don't hug poles."

Alec snorted, pocketing his phone again as he turned away from the pole. "Sorry. Insistent and wounded roommate to deal with. D'you want to drop by the cafè?"

"Sure," Jace said, shaking his head in an almost fond manner, "and tell Magnus it's vice versa."

Alec couldn't even be bothered to complain about the normal invasion of his privacy.

As they wandered New York under the glow of the rising sun, Alec had to remind himself that he couldn't be as transparent as he was with his siblings with his feelings with everyone else. He didn't want to think of what Magnus would do if he knew how Alec really felt. Heavens know Alec doesn't want anyone else but Magnus in love with him.

...

"Thanks."

The Magnus who answered the door to their apartment was a sleepy one; shrouded in a thick blanket, as the weekend had crumbled away in laughter with both of them neglecting to get their heating fixed. So they may have to suffer through yet another, increasingly cold, November week. Well, Magnus might. Alec didn't mind the cold; its bite was refreshing, almost.

Magnus tugged the box of doughnuts out of Alec's grip without remorse, making Alec immensely glad that he had his with Jace along with a scorching coffee.

As Magnus shuffled off to sink back into the couch - it was a little past seven - he called over his shoulder, soft like the icing sugar coating the box; "Get in here, idiot!"

It was only then that Alec noticed that he was lingering in his own doorway like a scared rabbit and hastily stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a click louder than Magnus' words.

"That's not healthy," he informed Magnus, noting the healthy dose of Nutella spread on top of an already very chocolatey doughnut. "How are you fit, again?"

Magnus shrugged, unconcerned. "Fast metabolism? Catching falling violins 24/7?"

"Oh, is that your job now," asked Alec sarcastically, pulling his shoes off, "catching violins? What a ludicrous profession."

"Don't be rude," Magnus said with his mouth full of enough calories to last him throughout the rest of the day, "idiot catcher."

Alec sighed as he hung his coat. "True. Don't remind me. At least our murder count is low."

"Good. Your contact with murderers should be zero," Magnus said sternly, waving his hand, the morning light catching on his slightly chipped nail polish. It was gold, like his soul.

Alec walked over to slump on the couch next to him. "No, as you're an average citizen who my job is to protect, that should be you." He attempted to poke Magnus in the chest in retribution, but it was impossible with the thick wall of blankets surrounding Magnus.

"Both?" Magnus asked, in a style eerily similar to satisfied. "Both," he nodded, evidently decided.

"Ok," Alec said, subconsciously leaning on Magnus' shoulder. "Now shut up. I've had enough talking with Jace already this morning."

Magnus' affirmative mumble was lost to Alec as he relaxed, feeling safe - for now.

...

"Do I have to?"

"Yes," said Alec, pursuing the shelves of shoes with an analytical eye, one developed by someone who had been dragged to go shopping too many times in his youth, and now had developed a methodical, get it over with approach, "we do."

Magnus pouted, twiddling with his zipper absentmindedly. "Why?"

Alec turned around, sighing. "Because buying a pair of shoes with the appropriate support is cheaper than paying for weeks of physical therapy if you twisted your ankle 'cause you weren't wearing the correct shoes. Also, regulation."

Magnus started to examine the shelves, his eyes brightening with anticipation.

"Nothing fluoro," Alec called out as he settled down on a chair, watching Magnus closely, "as I am going to be teaching you how to play, I will be exposed to them a lot. I would prefer to die in a more glamorous way than an onslaught of psychedelic colour."

"All these brands," said Magnus dreamily, ignoring Alec, picking up a Nike pair with fervent interest. "These shoes are so new."

"Right," Alec muttered, choosing to ignore his best friend's relatively odd fascination with clothes. He always did look good, though. "Remember, a brand doesn't equal quality. But it does equal a more expensive product."

Magnus slumped a little and put the shoe back on its pedestal. "Of course, darling." He moved onto scrutinising a pair of black Adidas'. "But style is simply priceless."

"Yes," Alec said, taking his jacket off; like many other stores, the Academy store they were currently in tried to combat the bitter cold outside with a roaring heat; which overcompensated if you lingered for too long. "But your bank account is not bottomless."

"Quit nagging," Magnus retorted, his brown eyes lighting up at a pair of - admittedly fashionable for tennis shoes - New Balance runners. "Aren't these absolutely gorgeous?"

"You're talking to the wrong Lightwood," Alec muttered, shuffling over. "Try them on. Make sure you get the right size first!"

Izzy had... forgotten to pursue the correct size several times previously. It had some... interesting results which Alec felt no desire to repeat.

Magnus sat down next to him with his thick coat brushing up against Alec, tugging off his boots somewhat elegantly. "I'm not an idiot, Alexander."

"Never said you were." Alec waited for Magnus to lace up. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

The store was massive; it was also not that crowded for a wintery (not quite yet) night.

Magnus shrugged. "Stand up." Alec did, puzzled. Magnus put his hand on Alec's shoulder and heaved himself up; if there weren't layers of clothes surrounding his arms, Alec was sure that he would have been able to see the beautiful strain of Magnus' muscles. "Thanks. Let's go."

After pacing across the store a few times, in the process picking up some weird miscellaneous items - a black umbrella outlined with shining gold, or so the description had said, a head torch and a sweatband - they purchased the shoes before heading back to their apartment, the subway subdued but not quite dead.

If New York ever did truly stop, they'd all be in trouble.

If Alec's love for Magnus ever ceased, he didn't know how he could function.

...

As they walked into the restaurant, Magnus eyed Ragnor and Catarina suspiciously. They were whispering - which in itself was incredibly odd - but they were also now shooting fervent looks at Magnus and Alec. Neither of them was doing or wearing anything crazy, so the attention was unwarranted. 

"Hello," Magnus said, slipping his coat off, "is there something happening that I am unaware of or has Alec secretly committed a felony?"

Ragnor stiffened and elbowed Catarina who abruptly stopped her rambling sentence, one which Magnus couldn't make head or tail of anyway. "Oh, hello, Magnus. Alec," he said, nodding. "Please sit. We were just discussing... work."

If they were discussing work then Camille was actually a nice person, but Magnus couldn't be bothered to push. Ragnor was terrible at keeping secrets. He'd break eventually if Magnus bothered to push or not.

"Right," Magnus said, sliding his coat onto his seat before sitting down, "have you decided yet?"

"No." Catarina looked oddly like a deer caught in headlights. "No, we were waiting for you two."

"Indeed?" asked Magnus, but decided to let the matter drop. They couldn't avoid him forever. "Are there any banquets?"

It wasn't an awfully fancy restaurant, but none of them had been there before; indeed, it had been recommended by Isabelle, who had gone on a date there once. The guy had been awful, but she said that the food had kind of made up for it. Kind of. The guy really had been a jerk. Anyway, she had recommended the Margherita pizza but had warned that it was massive. So...

Magnus turned to Alec, suddenly and pointlessly nervous. "Alexander, would you like to share the Margherita your dear sister wouldn't stop raving on about?"

Alec shrugged. "Sure," he replied, shifting in his seat, "if we get a bucket of chips with it."

"Fine," Magnus said, pouring himself a glass of water. "If I get to have a cocktail."

Alec closed the menu. "You're dealing with the hangover on your own."

Magnus nodded, satisfied. "I can handle my alcohol, darling, unlike you."

...

Unfortunately, Izzy had neglected to tell them another, vital fact about the pizza - that there were nine slices. _Nine_ slices. So now, after a bout of healthy banter - Alec was, per se, friendly with Ragnor and Catarina if not necessarily close with them - there was one lone piece of pizza lingering on the plate, and Alec and Magnus were currently engaged in a silent standoff. As the mature adults they were.

“What are you, two?” Catarina asked from across the table, where she had already polished off a spaghetti bolognese which she had deemed as ‘delightful’.

“Yes,” Magnus said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Please, Alexander, I insist, go ahead.”

“No, I insist,” Alec said, sipping his water as if he was just looking for something to do with his hands.

Two stubborn people engaged in a battle of the wills; if one of them didn’t quit soon, it was incredibly likely that Ragnor would simply snatch up the forlorn food.

“For goodness sake,” Catarina muttered. She stood up, the ugly scrape of her chair echoing across the restaurant, with her unused knife clenched in her hand. She stalked over to the plate and drew the knife across the pizza, splitting it into two.

“There.”

“Oh, thank you, Cat,” Magnus said distractedly, picking up one of the pieces. Sometimes blatant stubbornness was blindly stupid.

The solution to a problem could be so easy with the right tools, the right communication. But love? Now that was complicated.

...

“No, you are not allowed the bow until you master pizzicato, for the sake of my ears and all of our neighbours too.”

Alec lifted his chin off the violin. “Really?”

“Really. Now, today I will be teaching you a very simple song. Hot cross buns!”

There was then a long silence within which Magnus questioned whether he was being patronising or not. No, it was simply odd teaching his grown best friend in the same manner he taught, well, 6-year-olds.

“Ok,” Alec said, gripping the violin in a death grip. It was the cheap, plastic violin Magnus had just in case, and for students who simply couldn’t afford one themselves.

So that was allowed, kind of. “Alexander,” he started gently, “the violin is not a wild rabbit. If you relax, it will not bound off into the wilderness.”

The tension in Alec’s shoulders lessened, his knuckles slowly returning to their usual colour. “Ok. How do I play?”

“Pluck the D string.” Alec did so, albeit clumsily. "A. D again. Repeat."

As Magnus spoke the song out for Alec - four ds, four as, d a d - he thought that it would be awfully tiresome to continue to teach someone this way. For little kids, it was fine, but Alec should be able to progress faster than that.

"Can you read sheet music?" he asked, walking away to grab the stand.

"Yes." Alec lowered the instrument.

"Should've told me sooner," scolded Magnus, setting the stand up and slipping on some music. "I am not your personal sheet of music. If you were truly my student, those would be the lines I would set you."

"You can't give detention," Alec said, his eyes scanning the sheet, brimming with bright and, honestly, attractive, comprehension. "And you're not that cruel."

"Fine," Magnus relented, sitting down on the couch, too lazy to stand up anymore. "If I was Professor Snape, I would. Or feeling particularly petty."

"I guess so," Alec said, his head resting against the violin in an oddly cute manner.

"Now, student," he said, flinging his legs across the couch, "play me some Hot Cross Buns whilst I make some."

"Why are you making Hot Cross Buns on a Thursday afternoon?" asked Alec, bafflement weaved into his voice with the way it teetered.

"Because I can." Magnus stood up and walked over to the kitchen, which overlooked the sitting area. "Now, student, practice."

"Alright," Alec muttered, "I take no responsibility for any atrocities that may occur. May I...?"

Magnus could see Alec leaning towards the bow and felt his composure crumble, almost like shattering glass. "No. Don't even think about it."

...

Magnus had to remind himself, repeatedly, that his boss would not like it at all if he threw a student’s violin across the room. Even if they were incredibly infuriating.

Raj was a self-righteous idiot who was setting himself up for inevitable failure; if he thought that he could play Vilvaldi’s Winter after a mere semester of lessons, then he could butcher it on his own.

But… money. His job. Right.

“It’s in D Major,” Magnus said, walking into the room, having reluctantly ducked off to print off the requested piece. “Which you should be familiar with. Would you like to sight read it alone or?”

Raj glared at him; this school was awfully pompous - and tiny - but they did pay well, and it was only one day… he could suffer through one more lesson, the thought of his tennis lesson tonight with Alec lying tantalisingly out of sight.

“Of course,” Magnus sighed, lying his violin back into its case, wondering why he had bothered to pick it up in the first place. It wasn’t like Raj ever listened to him. “Please, play.”

And, of course, it was dreadful. Raj pushed too hard and drew the bow cruelly short; retaking it uselessly after every note and butchering the pitch so badly that the f was an a. Alas, would Magnus’ ears ever recover?

“Alright,” said Magnus, barely containing his wince. “Ok, that wasn’t that bad, but your intonation and pitch need a lot of work. Your rhythm was excellent.” He picked up his own violin. “Listen to me.”

And, though Magnus tried not to boast, the melody flew through his instrument like a warm, caressing wind. Nothing like the short, shriek pierces that had struck the room before.

“We’ll play together now,” instructed Magnus, “please do try to follow me.”

And Raj sucked up his pride and followed, for, despite his arrogance, he really did want to learn how to coax the most beautiful sounds out of the violin. And Magnus had been chosen to instruct him, to guide him, on this difficult, winding path; no matter how painful it may be, the reward far outweighed the cost.

...

Alec could hear Magnus' sulk, it was that large.

"Serving," he started stiffly, "is the pinnacle of the game of tennis. If you don't know how to serve, then you don't know how to play."

Magnus picked up his racquet reluctantly. "But it's difficult, Alexander."

Alec sighed and tossed Magnus a ball, which he managed to catch with his fingertips. "Of course it's not easy. Now, copy me."

Alec threw the ball up into the air - once he had learned about his looming teaching career, he had been quick to rope in Izzy to polish up his neglected skills so that he didn't make a fool of himself in front of Magnus - and swung at it, his muscles rippling. The ball soared over the net, landing in the far corner of the box; a difficult shot to return, an impressive one, at that.

But it was dark, and a frigid breeze had set in; the overhead lights had flickered on, and it would be silent if not for the chuckles of the lessons behind them. It would have been more impressive, more obvious, under the unforgiving glare of the sun; but Alec preferred to play tennis under the gentle glow of the moon, than the harshness of their closest star.

Magnus whistled. "Well, teach me, oh handsome one."

"Right," Alec began, his racquet dropping to his side as he tried to grasp at long lost memories, "as you're an adult, we're going to dive right into the most difficult serving techniques. So that means a proper serving technique and continental grip. Like this."

Magnus peered at Alec's hand in solemn contemplation and tried to imitate him. "Like this?" he echoed.

It was all wrong; shifted up until his knuckle was brushing the throat of the silver racquet, his fingers splayed across the glittering handle like an octopus. "No," Alec said, and put his racquet down. "I'll adjust it for you."

And this, this, was what had made Alec hesitate to offer; the accidental, but by no means avoidable, physical contact of tennis. Of teaching someone the correct techniques of tennis, per se. Not to say that he didn't accidentally brush up against Magnus a million times a day already, but this was somewhat _more_.

Magnus' hand was startling warm and supple as Alec adjusted his grip.

Magnus' nose scrunched up, his mouth twisting into a frown. "It feels weird," he complained, "like if I swing like this, I'm going to go toppling into another country."

"Good." Alec abruptly let go of Magnus' hand, leaning down to pick up his own racquet. "It should. Now, draw your hands down together - together, Magnus - then draw them back up - good - pull the racquet back up, throw the ball and swing."

The ball went ricocheting, stopping just short of the net. "Not bad. Again."

"Again?" Magnus looked like he wanted to do nothing more than just sit down on the clay and contemplate his miseries for the rest of his life. "Really?"

"Practice makes perfect," Alec said mockingly, an echo of Magnus' own words, "so practice."

Needless to say, the balls went absolutely everywhere, making Alec infinitely glad that he had forced Magnus to promise that he'd pick up all of the balls after they had finished.

Except for one ball.

"Magnus," Alec swore, rubbing his back. "Do I look like a box to you?"

"No," Magnus said, a little bit of guilt seeping into his voice. "I'm not awfully good at this, Alexander, if you haven't already noticed."

"Of course I've noticed," Alec scoffed, cautiously moving away from Magnus. "Continue."

The silence stretched out, lost to the other players' laughs on a chilly Friday night.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Magnus asked anxiously as he ran over to the net to fetch a ball.

Alec gritted his teeth. "'M fine, Magnus, really, it's not the worst that I've ever had."

"Ok," Magnus said, his brow now furrowed in concentration. 

Magnus jumped, literally, his racquet swinging wildly, his ball toss behind him, but, as Alec watched the ball arc into the sky as if it wished to kiss the stars, he noticed its drop towards a very specific area. The correct one, actually. It swung down sharply, no wind available to carry it further to become a fault, landing in.

Magnus turned around, the smile on his face far outshining any star Alec had ever seen before and a much more privileged and treasured sight at that.

"Did you see that," Magnus whispered, his eyes wide in disbelief, "Alexander?"

And then Alec laughed; yes, he did; this was Magnus' first time serving, and with the most difficult and perhaps professional techniques at that, and he'd gotten a serve in.

So Alec hugged him, their chests pressed close, their hearts hammering together in exhilaration. "Proud of you," he whispered.

Impressive, Magnus was - and Alec was not.

...

Whilst Magnus enjoyed socialising - a lot, most would say, too much, Alec would complain - he enjoyed his own company as well, just pursuing his own enjoyment without the boundaries and intricacies of social interaction. He wasn’t doing much today, just browsing for Isabelle’s Christmas present - yes, it was weeks away, but he preferred to be prepared rather than be one of the crowds who was scrambling, literally last minute like the fools they evidently were, on Christmas Eve, trying fervently to not get crushed by their fellow rushing feet.

His idea for Isabelle’s gift was sweet - his inspiration for it had been sparked by Alec’s idle comment about how Izzy had been crushed by one of her favourite necklaces, a ruby one - an heirloom, apparently - shattering. Shattered was perhaps being a little bit extravagant, but it had split into numerous, jagged splinters. When Magnus had quietly asked, a few weeks ago, if he could look at the beautiful necklace, Izzy hadn’t hesitated, giving him free rein.

 _If I can’t enjoy it_ , she had said, slightly teary, _at least you can._

Well… his motive may have been a little bit more complicated than that. Isabelle was a dear friend, so Magnus had contacted one of his favourite jewellery shops a while ago and booked an appointment to see if they could repurpose the ruby and, if so, what into.

After some thorough, delighted examination, they had asked him to return today - Saturday, thankfully - to select an option. It wasn’t cheap, per se, but it would be worth it to see the joy on Izzy’s face. Magnus prided himself on giving both meaningful and tasteful gifts.

It was an often neglected art, that of gift buying.

As he walked the streets, shivering, he made a mental note to contact an electrician as soon as possible, as Alec clearly couldn’t be bothered.

Hm. Shouldn’t be too hard, just had to avoid that one which Camille had cheated on him with.

Camille. A vixen who he had unwisely trusted with his heart in high school, despite the glaring warning signs. Her charm had been impressive, but now Magnus couldn’t be shifted, too lost in the whirlwind of all things Alexander.

The jeweller was open, the air inside surprisingly refreshing.

“Hello,” Magnus said gracefully, “I’m here for the appointment concerning the ruby?”

The clerk behind the table blinked. “Of course. Follow me, Mr Bane.”

“We were thinking a bracelet,” the clerk began, “elegant, slim but still letting the ruby shine through. The shape we’ve come up with utilises the narrow, shard-like remains of the ruby. Would you like to see our proposed design?”

Magnus shrugged, his hands spread wide. “Sure.”

The clerk led him over to a drawing table. There was a newly resized engagement ring nearby nestled in a velvet box; something gauzy - like someone like Camille would have loved, if for its value but not its meaning.

The clerk ruffled through some papers as Magnus admired the beautiful room, which was also full of tasteful character. The wallpaper was a deep emerald, threaded artfully with winding, shimmering gold. This jeweller did not disappoint.

“Here,” the clerk said, showing him a piece of paper.

The design was magnificent. The silverwork looked intricate; the ruby shone; it would also fit Isabelle’s style snugly.

“Yes,” Magnus replied, momentarily stunned by awe, “it's beautiful. How much is it?”

The clerk proposed a price - expensive, but reasonable for the task at hand. Magnus reached for his wallet, spooning out the money - which he barely had enough of.

“Thank you,” Magnus said; the bell had rung, oddly shrill, as if specific to a person. The clerk doubled back and fetched the box. “When shall I come back to collect the bracelet?”

The clerk gave him a date - in two weeks time, which was great for Magnus - and moved to let Magnus from out of the behind the counter area, but Magnus froze. He wasn’t prepared, he didn’t care but he’d been in such a good mood and -

“Camille.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm not American - feel free to correct me!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated - my motivation, as I'm quite busy.
> 
> Also, if any tennis/violin terminology is confusing, feel free to ask - I'm so used to it that I simply may not have noticed.
> 
> Now you can find me on tumblr [here](https://mirrorofliterature.tumblr.com).

**Author's Note:**

> Again, comments and kudos are always appreciated :)
> 
> As I'm not American, or in either of these professions, feel free to correct me - my tennis and violin knowledge, however, was learned first hand and it's why I chose them - write what you know - but also because of all of the opportunities for accidental physical contact ;)
> 
> Now you can find me on tumblr [here](https://mirrorofliterature.tumblr.com).


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